


At Rest

by LookingForDroids



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bondage, Comfort, F/M, Ficlet, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:07:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24480313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LookingForDroids/pseuds/LookingForDroids
Summary: Sollux needs a chance to relax, and he gets one.
Relationships: Sollux Captor/Feferi Peixes
Kudos: 4





	At Rest

”Are you shore about this?” Feferi asks again. She’s leaning over him from behind, close enough for a strand of her hair to tickle the side of his face, with one hand resting between his shoulders where the red cord crosses the blue. Her ropework is careful and elaborate; he can’t see the pattern of cords and knots against his skin, but he can feel their imprint across his back and stomach, all up and down his limbs. There’s a pleasant tension in the way they hold his arms taut above his head and his legs open, just enough give to let him relax with no pain. He could slice all her handiwork to shreds in an instant with only a flick of his mind, and that’s why there’s the other thing too, the wires inside the ropes, the circuitry woven through the cuffs and the collar sitting snug around his neck. He built the device himself, because if there’s one thing they both agreed on without needing to ask, it’s that they’re not using fucking Fleet surplus for this, so he knows exactly how much it can take. He can break it if he pushes, but he’ll have to really push.

“FF, if you ask me that one more time, I might lose my grip on the embarrassingly tenuous remnants of my sanity, and nobody wants that.” 

He feels her hesitate, hovering over him. Her fingers brush the nape of his neck and draw back, and yeah, he gets it. It’s not that she doesn’t like seeing him helpless. It’s that she does.

“Yeah,” he says, “I’m shore. Sure. Go for it.”

She presses the switch on the back of his collar, and the device hums to life.

It feels like what he imagines a robot must feel, powering down, that slow shift into quiescence. It starts low, with the psionic damper pressed against the base of his spine, and spreads along the wires, up his back and out to the cuffs at his wrists and ankles. The electric charge that runs along his nerves dissipates like breath into water, and with it a strain so mild and so constant that it’s detectable only in its absence. He breathes out, feels the power seep from his muscles, and it’s – quiet. No psionic thrum in the back of his mind, no distant voices clamoring.

“How are you doing?” Feferi asks. Her hand lingers at the collar a moment longer, grounding him more than the network of wire and rope, before she shifts position to lie beside him and curls her fingers around his hip instead. He turns the question over, wondering about the answer, and it occurs to him that there are trolls who must live in the world like this all the time, no noise and no static. It scares him a little. It’s kind of nice. Even beneath the blindfold, he closes his eyes, and rests his head against the cushion, and feels what it’s like to just exist.

“I could fall asleep like this. I don’t think I’d even need sopor.”

“Is that what you want?” she asks. It’s not what she wants, if the bulge curling heavy against his hip is anything to go by, but if he declares that this is now kinky naptime, she’ll go with it. She’s easy like that. But he isn’t tired, not really, and the way she runs her claws up the inside of his thigh to the very edge of his nook reminds him of how empty he is right now, and how little he wants to be. He rocks his hips automatically, rubbing against the fabric beneath him; the bindings let him do that and not much more, and suddenly, between the light chill of air against his heated skin and the more substantial cool of her teasing fingers, it isn’t nearly enough. 

“What I want,” he breathes, blushing hot, pushing back into her touch as far as he’s able. “What I want is for you to fuck me like this. But – make it slow?”

“Mmm,” she says. “I can do that.” She folds herself over him, pressing him down, a soft and welcome weight. Her hips flex as her bulge pushes into him; he feels himself held in place, mostly immobilized, and just then, it’s everything he needs. The dark and silence enfold him. He drifts in the currents of his mind, caught up in her net and in her arms, at her mercy and utterly unafraid.


End file.
